


Circuits

by glitchfics



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Panic Attacks, adorable internet gays find love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 18:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5507510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitchfics/pseuds/glitchfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean is a dork who lives in Minnesota and makes Let's Play videos on Youtube. Marco is an adorable, freckled man who lives in California and makes vlogs about how much of a lovable goob he is.  When they realize that they can open up to each other about things deeper than the content of their videos; they find something transcendent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Circuits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Binary_Sunset](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Binary_Sunset/gifts).



I snuggle back into Marco’s chest, tipping my head back and pressing a quick kiss to his jaw. “Ready?”

“100 percent.”

The little green light flashes on the camera as I lean forward to turn it on. My fingers rise to my temple in a two-finger salute to the lense. “Hey guys; it’s Jean! And today we’re not going to play a game, but I’m here with -”

Marco’s head pops over my shoulder.

“- this dork!”

He grins and kisses my cheek loudly.

I’m trying not to smile too hard, trying not to let him distract me (which has happened _on camera_ before, needless to say _that_ got edited out). “Some of you might know him already, but for anybody who’s new to the Kirchstein Army: this is my boyfriend, Marco. We’ve been living together for... “ I squint and tilt my head. “... A year and a half?”

Marco nods. “A year and seven months… and 13 days… and about 15 hours.”

“Well I was gonna tell the wonderful people how adorable you are, but I don’t know if there’s even the need now. How long have we known each other?”

“I didn’t do the math on that one,” he says, chuckling. “But it’s tricky because I watched your videos before we talked.”

“And I watched _your_ videos before we talked. But count from when you messaged me that first time.”

“From then? It’s been probably about… three years and eight or nine months? Yeah?”

I look into the camera and raise my eyebrows. “I don’t know why he’s asking me; I am _not_ the math brain in this relationship.”

Marco bounces me in his lap in protest. “Hey! Neither am I!”

“If you didn’t fail high school calculus, then you’re the math brain,” I say matter-of-factly.

We banter a little longer; some I might edit out, some I might leave in. But there’s a reason we’re making this video, and if we don’t get to it, I think I’m about to just blurt it out into a puddle of word vomit. It’s clenching tightly in my stomach, sending out these little pulses of excitement and anxiety and other feelings that I can’t even begin to name. I know my hand is digging into Marco’s leg and that he’s starting to notice because his fingers are stroking tiny circles on my arm.

“So-” _Fuck my voice is shaking._ Now Marco’s threading his fingers through mine, offering a reassuring squeeze. “So- we’re getting married.”

It’s hard to believe that this is happening. Almost _four years_ with him. Two of those years were long distance. I can remember a time where his videos were all I had of him, a time when I’d only ventured so far as to comment on one of his vlogs in gratitude.

\---

My heart was still pounding, my fingers still trembling as I typed the comment out.

_you’re probably not gonna see this, i just wanted to say thank you. your vlogs mean a lot to a lot of people. i’m coming down from a panic attakc rn, and watching some of your vids really helped me. not mnay people can do that, you know? so um i just wanted to say thanks again, keep doing what you’re doing_

I drew my knees up to my chest, bowing my head to focus on evening my breathing. I knew I shouldn’t have played that shitty game. Should’ve watched a playthrough of it first, but I wanted the video to be authentic. _I guess this is as authentic as it gets._ Jean, curled up in his swivel chair having a panic attack over some low-budget horror game. _Shit_. I really thought I could do it this time too, thought I could make it through a horror game without breaking down like this. Or thought that breaking down like this was worth all the requests to play those kinds of games that I saw in my comments section.

At least this time was a little different though. Usually I just weathered it all out on my own. The tightness in my chest, the tears pricking at my eyes, the feeling of too much adrenaline lacing my body with what felt like pure electricity. This time, I clicked over to a new channel I’d found a few weeks back. Just some freckled guy vlogging his life at a weird angle. Honestly if it was anyone else I would’ve been bored out of my mind, forget about brought down from a panic attack. But he was… different. Maybe it was his eyes, steady as they gazed into the camera. Maybe it was his voice, warm but not deep, soft but not quiet. I could’ve listened to him talk about _anything_. Which is pretty much what he was talking about. That mundane chatter was like a beacon of light; if I could only follow it, I’d make it out the other side. Shaking and on-edge, but I’d make it.

I’d left my room dark to film my playthrough of the horror game (which was, in retrospect, a shitty plan), and it had felt menacing before. But now, with the sound of Marco’s voice spilling out of the computer, and the glow of the sun from wherever he was shining on the monitor, it didn’t feel so dark.  

_Whaaaaaat’s up, babes?! Okay, so you know that feel when you’re in the mall vlogging and people are staring and then some old women tells a mall cop on you? No? That’s just me? Shocker._

I laughed to myself, propping my chin on my arm and sighing in relief. Finally, I could feel my body decelerating, returning to normal.

_Joke’s on her though, because that mall cop was actually really nice! And he agreed to be in my video!_ The camera turned shakily and panned over to a hulking, muscular blonde buzz cut in a mall cop uniform that looked a smidge too tight. _Tell everyone your name, and how you know me._

_I’m Reiner, and I went to junior high with Marco._

_Cool! Okay, okay, now tell what you told me about school and stuff._

_Oh! Erm- I took this job to help pay for college, and while I was working it I met my fiance._

_Guys this is literally the cutest part of the story!_ Marco sounded so pumped about this; I can’t help but grin.

Reiner rubbed the back of his neck with a smile and pointed up at the second floor of the mall where a second mall cop was “patrolling”. _That’s him; that’s Bert._

_Funny story guys, Bertholdt went to junior high with us too! Small world._

The rest of his videos were pretty much exactly like those. And they all had insane clickbait titles that would’ve been borderline annoying if it wasn’t him in front of the camera.

Over the next few months, I forgot about the comment I’d left, it’s not like I expected him to comment back or anything. I was sure he got plenty of comments and messages exactly like that; people fawning over him because he was an honest-to-god human beam of light. Plus, I wasn’t enough of an idiot to attempt another horror game, so things on the panic attack front were pretty clear.

So I’d pretty much totally forgotten about that comment… until one day. It was a pretty standard day. I woke up late, smeared gel in my hair in the hope it’d turn out okayish, and “brewed” some motor oil-esque instant coffee before practically running to my job at gamestop because Youtube doesn’t pay me enough money for me _not_ to need another job (with my fly down _thanks for not telling me when I got to work, Ymir_ ).

It wasn’t until I got home that I night that even really had time to check Youtube notifications, which were _almost_ all normal. When I checked my messages, there was one in there that wasn’t some weird spam bot or someone asking me to play the demo of their new game. One that happened to be from one “Marco Bodt”. I mean, from one “marcolovescinnamonbuns”.

_Hey, Jean! I saw your comment on my video awhile ago, and somehow I never got around to responding to you or anything, but I just remembered! I really hope this isn’t awkward or anything because I’m messaging you so after-the-fact. But I actually watch your videos too because I think you’re really funny, so I’m happy that my videos helped you with your panic attack. Maybe this is a little too deep for a first message, but sometimes I worry that my content is kind of… dumb, and hearing that it helped someone out makes me feel a lot better about what I do. Anyways, I just wanted to say thanks! p.s. you can always message me if you need anything, i want to try to help more if there’s a next time!_

Holy shit. Holy- Really? Marco Bodt? My hands fell into my lap as I leaned back in my chair. If there was anyone else around I’d try to wipe the manic grin off of my face, but there’s not so I’m smiling so hard I’m worried my face’ll split. He thought I was funny? That deserved another “holy shit”. Holy shit. Did he mean that bit at the end? About always being able to message him? Did he just say that to everyone? At any rate, _wow_ , he was really freaking nice.

I was chewing on my bottom lip as I set about responding. Everything I typed sounded wrong and weird. In the end, I settled for

_Oh, wow, I almost forgot about the comment to be honest! But hearing from you at all is kind of crazy to me; thank you so much for responding! And thanks for thinking I’m funny; I just turn on the camera and try to be this crazy extroverted version of myself and hope it works. And it’s not too deep for the first message; I know what you mean. I think that all the time about my stuff. I don’t really “need anything” right now, but I was wondering-_

Should I? Should I end with a question or something? I want to talk to him more, but god knows my anxiety would never let me just ask someone outright to talk more. The best I can manage is to subtly encourage more conversation with questions.

_\- if you have a playlist of your music anywhere? Like the music you end videos with? It’s all really good and you switch it every week. You have great taste!_

Little did I know that one of the _easiest_ ways of getting Marco to talk to you is to ask him about music. Because there’s a chance that he’ll message you back five minutes later promising to “make you a playlist!” because “oh my god [he’s] so flattered you like [his] music taste!!!” with _exactly_ that many exclamation points. And maybe you like talking about music too. So maybe you sent him a playlist back. And _maybe_ you guys kept swapping playlists for the next couple weeks until he said he was tired of using Youtube messenger. _So he gives you his number_.

Maybe you kept texting about music, but then it was talking about your pets and your hometowns and your families. He told you about how his parents passed away in a plane crash and how his foster parents stopped treating him the same when he came out to them. You tell him about how long you told yourself you were straight because even though you knew your parents would be cool with it, you were still afraid they wouldn’t love you the same. You told him about how you came out as gay first, and then how your boyfriend practically wrinkled his nose in disgust and broke up with you when you realized you were bi.

_You’re bi?_ That was all the text back said.

I felt panic tighten in my chest. Because I’d forgotten. I’d forgotten that he didn’t know because I was so comfortable talking to him. _sHIT. sorry. yeah._

_Why are you sorry?_

_a lot of gay guys that I’ve met… aren’t really that cool with bi guys._

_Do you think I’m not cool with bi guys?_

_fuck, no. taht’s not what i meant i just mean i don’t want to screw anything up with that._

_Jean?_

_yeah?_

_I promise that there’s no part of you that’s gonna “screw anything up”. Especially not you being bi. That’s part of who you are; I like you like you are._

“I like who you are.” Oh, wow. Oh, wow. What did that mean? Because I know what I _want_ it to mean.

_you like me?_ I threw in an emoji to keep it light, funny. I needed a way out if I was wrong and he didn’t mean it like that.

All he sent back was a blushing emoji. And then:

_Yeah._

_… as a friend??_

_No… Is that okay? I really didn’t expect to be telling you this today. So I’m kind of- freaking out._

_pls don’t freak out_

_Then say something! I just need to know if I’ve gone too far; I don’t want to make this weird or anything._

_i’m just trying to find a way to say “i like you too” without sounding like a cornball_

_Holy shit, okay, okay. You gave me a heart attack!!!_

I could tell from his exclamation points that he was flustered, and that made me smile to myself.

_skype me; i wanna see ur face rn_ Usually I never asked to Skype, because I’m under the completely true impression that my face is gross mostly all the time. But I couldn’t help it; I wanted to see him.

The call appeared a second later as a notification at the top of my screen, and I tapped it, grinning when his face filled the screen. “Hey,” I murmured.

“Hey.”

Neither of us really wanted to do anything but look at each other, I’m pretty sure, because he didn’t say anything for a little bit. Which is unlike Marco, I’d come to find. I broke the silence first. “What do we do about it?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly.

“I’ve never- I’ve never done long distance.”

“Me neither. But I do know that you’re worth long distance.”

My cheeks heated up, and I thanked my lucky stars that he couldn’t see it through the grainy quality of two phone screens. “You are too.”

And that was the first promise we made each other. No matter what, _we were worth it._ We both knew that the second we stopped believing it, it would stop working.

Long distance was shitty. Like the shittiest. And the only reason it wasn’t worse was because I was dating freaking Marco Bodt, who, as I’ve said before, is a human beam of light.  

When you date Marco Bodt long distance, he gets really creative. He took you out on dinner dates, and he mailed you things so he could watch you open them, and he made an infinite number of great playlists. And _holy shit_ people who say you can’t have a sex life in a long distance relationship are very, very wrong. Because Marco was infinitely kinker in front of a camera than in person (not to knock the “in person” experience, which is equally amazing).

_Jean?_

_mhmm_

_Are you alone?_

_i’m very interested in where this is going. fuck yeah i’m alone_

And Jesus Christ if he didn’t send me the hottest picture I’d ever seen in my life. I mean it. 1) I didn’t realize how fantastic his ass was. Like definition of a bubble butt holy fuck I doubt I’d ever get over it. 2) I didn’t realize how hard seeing him in a lacy thong made me. 3) I didn’t realize how hard seeing him _take off_ a lacy thong made me.

_Good?_

_if that’s good don’t you dare show me “great” or else i’ll come in my pants_

Yeah… the sexual aspect was never, ever, _ever_ lacking. So fast forward to the one and only time that I (I, not my anxiety) ever thought Marco had stopped believing in us.

He called me in the middle of the day, which worried me because he knew I was at work and he never called during work. The second I picked up the phone my breath hitched in my throat; his voice sounded funny.

“Marco? Are you okay?”

“No.”

“What’s wrong?” I was trying not to sound scared. My biggest fear was something happening to him; I wouldn’t be there for him. Not if I was here in Minnesota, at least.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he slurred. Marco was never drunk. I guess except for now.

“Do what?” My hand was balled into a fist on my thigh.

“This-” He hiccuped. “- long distance thing.”

“What do you mean?” Oh god; this was it. He was done. I’d had nightmares about this before, and I always called him afterwards. Tears brimmed in my eyes.

“I miss you all the time. I want to be with you.”

“Just say it already, Marco.”

“I think I should move to Minnesota.”

_What?_ “What?”

“Well, I don’t want to be away from you anymore. I was thinking about it because I went to my friend’s bachelor party last night and I woke up and my head hurts so much and I thought ‘Jean would pet my head’ but you aren’t here because you live in Minnesota and I always wanted to see snow so I thought ‘I should move to Minnesota’ so I called you.”

I was mad at him and endeared by him and still kind of wanting to cry all at the same time. “Marco are you still drunk?”

“Small.”

“What?”

“I’m drunk a small amount.”

I giggled into the phone. “Marco you scared me.”

“Why?” He sounded so fuzzy.

“I thought you wanted to break up.”

Laughter exploded out of the phone. “No, no, I love you, Jeanbo!”

“Marco, babe?”

“Mhmm?”

“I need you to take two Advil, go to sleep, and when you wake up, call me again. Then we can talk about moving.”

I could hear him shifting around. “Okey dokey; I love you!” He hung up before I could say it back, but I smiled into the phone.

Surprisingly, he did remember to call me later, and he did move to Minnesota. I worried that he would miss California, but he said that he preferred snow. I was too happy to have him with me to fight him about it.

It pretty much snowballed from there. Pessimists said that we would meet each other and it wouldn’t be the same. That waking up next to him and being able to hold him and kiss him and touch him wouldn’t feel as good as having miles between us. They were so goddamned wrong. But it wasn’t about them being wrong (mostly). It was about the fact that I loved him so much that I proposed before he could. It was about the fact that I could hold his hand in mine and brush his engagement ring with my fingers whenever I wanted. It was about the fact that _oh my god, he’s mine, and oh my god, he’s here._

And so that’s how we got here. Snow blowing around outside the window, Marco’s arms wrapped snugly around me while we film our engagement video. I really doubt I could get any happier.

\---

“So- we’re getting married.” I can feel myself smiling really hard, and when I look back at Marco, wetness is shining on his cheeks. “Oh my god, babe, are you crying?”

He nods, tucking his face against my shoulder with a sniff. His hand is holding mine tighter now, but I think it’s more for him than for me at this point.

“Are you okay?” Dread twists in my stomach. What if he regrets this? I proposed, what if he just said yes because he was afraid of hurting my feelings? This somehow both the stupidest and the scariest thought I’ve ever had. I know it’s bullshit, but anxiety trumps logic every goddamned time. In the second before he answers me my brain comes up with at least seven scenarios, each worse than the last.

And in true Marco style, the next thing he does makes me wonder why I ever worried.

“I’m fine.” His words are muffled against my sweater before he lifts his head. “I’m just insanely happy.” Now he’s looking into the camera. “Um- I’ve mentioned this before on my channel; I don’t know if any of you guys watch me. But-”

Marco’s starting to get choked up all over again, and I bring his hand to my lips.

“But I grew up with foster parents, and they weren’t… they weren’t very accepting of my sexuality. And there was awhile where I- I- couldn’t see a future where I would get to marry who I loved, knowing that I would love a man. And now that I know it’s _really_ happening, and I _really_ get to marry this amazing guy...” He blew out a breath and smiled at me shakily. “It’s pretty surreal.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm worried that I rushed too much while I was writing this, but I really hope that you like it! I'm excited to see what you think about your Christmas present! Your prompts were both amazing; I had a hard time choosing. At the end of the day though, could I really turn down the opportunity for internet dork!JeanMarco and some long distance angst? No, no I couldn't. Happy Holidays!


End file.
